


All Talk/All Action

by oceaxe



Series: Drabbles from Arthur/Eames Last Drabble Writer Standing 2017 [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 23:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13534380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: When Arthur’s all action, Eames is all talk. When Arthur wants to talk, Eames is all about the action.





	All Talk/All Action

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble 1 from Inception Drabbles from AELDWS 2017. The prompt was "conflict resolution styles."

“You don’t want to do that, mate,” Eames says, his hands up in mock surrender. “We’re harmless, and look,” he withdraws his billfold to show that it’s empty. Arthur knows that there had been several hundred in there moments ago, at the coffee shop. Now their coffees lay spilled in the alleyway where this asshole has decided to mug them. With a knife.

“Eames, I’ll handle this,” he snaps. There’s no time for Eames’ conciliatory song-and-dance. “Look, shithead,” he raps out, “you better run away. Fast.” He steps forward, reaching into his jacket, to discover that his gun had gone the way of the money. 

“Nevermind my colleague, he took a self-defense course and fancies himself a bad man,” Eames says placatingly. “How about you have my watch and we’ll call it a day?” He dangles his Rolex (fake, naturally). 

The thief looks unimpressed. “What’s in his wallet?” 

“Oh, he doesn’t carry one.” Arthur’s nostrils flare and he reaches into his pocket to find that yes, in fact, he no longer has a wallet. 

“I pay for everything, you see. A kept man, isn’t that right, darling?” He wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist as the thief fingers the Rolex and walks away, shrugging.

In the hotel room, Arthur whirls on Eames. 

“My wallet and my gun. Now.” 

Eames simply hangs his jacket on a chair and leans against the wall, smirking. He gestures towards his body, wordlessly inviting Arthur to come and find them. If he dares. 

“Oh, you’re all talk in the alley, but you haven’t got a word to defend your stupidity now, have you?” Arthur spits irritably. He steps towards Eames, who lets his eyelids slide half-shut, shifts his body towards Arthur’s. “You could have gotten us killed, you dick!” 

Arthur clearly wants Eames to explain himself, to take up the gauntlet. But Eames says nothing as he takes Arthur’s hands and places them on his sides. His fingers clutch the flesh and fabric there, eyes widening as he sucks in a sharp breath. Then he slides his hands around Eames’ back, down into the waistband of his trousers. He sidles closer, pressing against Eames’ as his fingers skate along the swell of Eames’ arse, finding his possessions and withdrawing them slowly. 

“Thank you,” Arthur rasps, then Eames takes them and tosses them on the floor to grab Arthur by the hips. He reverses their position, slamming Arthur up against the wall and starting a slow, hard grind up against his crotch. Arthur’s head hits the wall as Eames captures his lips, thrusts his tongue into wet heat as he’s thrusting into the mess of precome in his pants. Arthur’s moaning, leg coming up around Eames’ waist, so he hauls him up and holds him there, trapped and undulating, seeking more friction. After a few more seconds of wall-assisted humping, they come, gasping for breath.

“I’m all talk in most situations, but I’m all action at the right time, darling,” Eames murmurs in Arthur’s ear.


End file.
